Warnings: character death, mentions of drinking
I do not own RENT or Matchbox Twenty's 3 AM.
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Rain
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She say it's cold outside and she hands me my raincoat
She's always worried about things like that
She says it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault
I'm sitting on the fire escape, not really doing anything other than listening and watching Alphabet City. It's really late (or maybe it's really early?) and somewhat cold, but I ignore it for now, content to just be here.
Below my dangling feet Avenue B is full of action, even at this time. A prostitute waves at a passing taxi, a man shuffles a deck of cards on a cardboard box, and somewhere I can hear a street drummer beating out a rhythm on whatever he can find.
In the distance lightning strikes, and seconds later an ominous boom of thunder follows, a promise of what is to come.
The window opens behind me and I don't have to turn around to know that April has followed me out here.
She sits next to me, letting her feet dangle off the edge as well. "It's cold, baby. You should put this on," she says and hands me a well-worn raincoat.
I put it on without question – we've been through this before, and she's not willing to elaborate on it – and continue to look out at the gather clouds.
"If the world ends while we're out here, I'm blaming you," she says and leans her head on my shoulder.
I turn my gaze to her perfect face and raise an eyebrow. "And why me? It's not like I could tell you it was coming."
"Who else would I blame it on?" She laughs and her whole face lights up. "Mark and Maureen are both inside sleeping, like we should be. You would be the last person I'd see before everything was gone. So I could only blame you."
I shake my head at her logic. "That doesn't make any sense."
She grins again, pleased at my confusion. She says things like that a lot, and I haven't figured out why.
"Yes it does. Just like sleeping right now does. It's three in the morning and about to rain. Let's go inside and go to bed." As if to prove her point, the sky chooses that moment to crack open and pour down its rain.
She shrieks and darts inside, pulling me with her, so quickly we tumble to the floor in a heap of limbs. She begins to cackle gleefully and I can do nothing except hold her tightly, happy to be here with this beautifully crazy girl.
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
Says the rain's gonna wash away I believe it
"Roger?" a voice whispers in the dark. I can tell it's April – who else would be lying in bed next to me, in the middle of the night?
"Yeah?" I whisper back. I wasn't asleep; too many thoughts about the band, and the next gig, and the song I was going to write, and maybe this time we'll get the record deal.
"You were awake, so I thought you might be lonely." She begins to trace random patterns on my palm in the dark.
We lay together in silence a few moments longer. The only sound is our breathing and the slight ticking of the old clock. "Roger?" she whispers again.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared." She curls tightly into my side, clutching at the t-shirt I wore to bed.
I rest a hand on her small back. "Of what?"
"Everything." She breathes and I can feel the warmth through the thin shirt. "Of maybe that the rain is going to flood us and wash us all away. And there will be nothing left in the morning."
And there's something about the way she says it, but for a moment there I can almost believe it. The thought makes me shiver.
She's got a little bit of something, God it's better than nothing
And in her color portrait world she believes that she's got it all
She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to
We've set up a mini picnic on the roof. April brought a blanket, some food, and I brought my guitar. The sun set hours ago, but we stayed out here enjoying being in each other's presence.
She's spread out over the blanket, our food long gone, staring up at something in the sky. I know it's not the stars, because the light of the city drowns them out completely.
She twists her head to look at me, sitting inches away, holding my guitar in my lap. Every now and then I'll strum a few chords.
"The moon used to hang higher than it does now," she says as if it were a fact.
I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Oh really?"
"Yeah," she sighs and looks back up at the object. "Much higher, and it was more majestic. More mysterious. And ten times as gorgeous." Her finger traces the moon's outline.
"That has to be the most insane thing I've ever heard." I gently set my guitar to the side and lie down next to her. "And you are the most insane person I've ever met."
She just grins at me again.
"I love you," I say, smiling back at her.
"I know," she says. And even though I'm not sure which statement she's answering, I realize it doesn't matter as she leans over and kisses me.
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
Says the rain's gonna wash away I believe it
It's late when I finally stumble into the loft after my last gig. Mark and Collins come in after me; all three of us are considerably drunk.
I can hear the shower running and I know it's April, because we left Maureen at the club. April had said she was feeling sick earlier, so she decided not to come.
I grin as a plan to sneak up on her while she's in the shower formulates in my mind. I move over to the door, attempting to knock the least amount of stuff over as possible. Gently, I push the door open and I'm not sure I would have ever been prepared for what I found.
She's lying there, in the bathtub that's over flowing with water mixed with her blood. She's lying there, not moving, completely submerged. She's lying there, dead.
The image has an immediate sobering effect and I feel the alcohol's grip loosen from my mind, but I still can't make myself move. The only thing that registers is that April is dead.
I must have yelled, or something, because Collins and Mark have now joined me in the doorway. They are both just as shocked, but seem better able to handle this crisis situation. Mark has moved me so I'm sitting on the couch, no longer staring at her body, but rather the clock that broke weeks ago. For some reason I can remember that it read exactly 3:03.
It's three in the morning, and, god, I feel so alone.
The only other thing that I remember from that night, was when one of them turned off the shower I thought, I guess she doesn't have to be scared of the rain anymore.
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days, and days
But outside it's stopped raining
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Word Count: 1267
This was written for speedrent challenge #122.
Review if you read, please.
Dymond